


Point of View

by LawrenceKinden



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Locker Room, Spanking, voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5297705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrenceKinden/pseuds/LawrenceKinden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton likes to look. The girls he likes to look at have a different point of view. [Story Contains Spanking]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of View

I like to look, and looking is all about point of view. For example:

Today I know that Tamerlynn is wearing plain white panties because in the library, before class this morning, I knelt down in just the right spot, pretending to tie my shoes, so that I could look up at where she sat at a computer. From there, I could see right up her skirt.

Tamerlynn often wore plain panties, but sometimes she wore panties with cartoons on them: rainbows and fairies and kittens and so on. At least she hadn't chosen to wear pants today.

Today I know that Kellisha is wearing a purple and black leopard print bra because she sits in the same spot in the cafeteria for lunch every day and when she wears a loose shirt, I can walk behind her, nonchalantly, and glance down at just the right moment.

Sometimes Kellisha's bras are lace trimmed, sometimes they're satin and shiny, and sometimes she doesn't wear a bra at all.

Today I know that Rhiannon is wearing a matching set of orange socks, panties, and bra, because she lives next door to me and she doesn't always close her blinds when she gets dressed in the morning and if I get up early enough and climb into the old treehouse in the backyard, I can see right into her bedroom.

Sometimes she takes a shower first and comes back into her room damp and shiny.

There are others of course. I'm always on the lookout for catching a glimpse of the forbidden.

A set of stairs near the south gym is a prime spot to watch girls coming downstairs, their breasts bouncing; classroom chairs where the back doesn't meet the seat allow me to peak down bowed out jean waistlines. A short flouncy skirt, a plunging neckline, a pair of loose shorts.

And there's always volleyball practice with its short shorts, loose tank tops and tight sports bras.

I was making my way to the south gym, past the locker room hallways. As I passed the girls' I glanced in, just in case, but no one was visible. The sounds of volleyball echoed around the hall: squeaking shoes, bouncing balls, grunting girls. I was nearly to the door when I was met by Tamerlynn, Kellisha, and Rhiannon.

They looked fierce and determined, but all I could think of was what I'd seen throughout the day. I smiled.

"We know what you're doing, Hamilton, and we don't like it," Rhiannon, my neighbor, said, fists on hips, eyes angry.

She was wearing her volleyball uniform, and I noted that her sports bra, like all the others' was white, but when I glanced down noted she was still wearing her orange socks. I wondered if she'd changed panties.

"Don't deny it," Rhiannon continued. "We've seen you lurking at the bottom of the stairs."

"Um," I said. I couldn't help but grin goofily at the thought of bouncing breasts.

"He doesn't even look embarrassed," Tamerlynn said.

"I think it's time for plan B," Kellisha said.

Riahnnon nodded. "I think you're right. Get 'im."

Before I could react, Tamerlynn and Kellisha each had me by an arm and were dragging me along behind. I stumbled, but could hardly resist; they were far more fit than I. It wasn't long before I realized they were dragging me into the girls' locker room and my excitement soared. If they thought they'd embarrass me by taking me somewhere forbidden, they had the wrong guy.

The girls' locker room wasn't that much different than the boys' except that the clothes and stuff was girls' stuff. I had expected that girls would be more tidy, but no there were just as many duffle bags, piles of clothes and wet towels strewn throughout. I delighted in gawking at the bras and panties on display.

It wasn't until Rhiannon was seated on the bench, pink, plastic hairbrush in hand, Tamerlynn held my hands firmly behind my back, and Kellisha was unbuttoning my pants that I realized what was about to happen. I recognized Rhainnon's hairbrush, the same hairbrush she'd used on her hair this morning, the same I'd seen her father using on her bare butt more than once.

"Hang on a second," I protested. "Can't we talk about this?"

"It's too late for that," Rhiannon proclaimed. "You've been a bad boy, Hammy."

"I hate it when you call me that," I groused even as Tamerlynn pushed me down over Rhiannon's lap and Kellisha pulled my jeans down to my ankles.

Even knowing what was to come, I relished the moment. Tamerlynn sat down and slid under my thighs to keep me from kicking. Kellisha slid under my shoulders to hold my hands behind my back. Their thighs were soft and comforting. I took a deep breath relishing the smell of sweat, deodorant, and girl.

Then Rhiannon spanked me.

The flat, heavy back of her pink, plastic hairbrush exploded through the thin material of my tight, white briefs. I grunted and bucked but the combined hold of Tammerlyn and Kellisha held me down. I knew then that despite my excitement a moment before, this was nothing to be excited about.

The next came, and my grunt became a squeal. I strained at my bonds, but the girls were strong. Rhiannon put her hand on my waist and pulled me close to her.

"Hold still."

I couldn't hold still. I couldn't help but try to squirm aside as I felt her tense. I couldn't help but buck as she spanked me again and again and again. I was embarrassed by my unmanly crying. I was embarrassed to be exposed in front of the girls. I was embarrassed to be unable to get away, to be helpless as Rhiannon spanked me with her hairbrush, the same hairbrush she was spanked with at home.

It hurt unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I'd never been spanked, never been in a fight, never been hit other than fooling around with friends. Other than, from time to time, fooling around with Rhiannon. It was the hottest burn, the sharpest sting, the most intense pain I'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

When it was over, I danced in shame, rubbing my butt through my underwear while Rhiannon, Tamerlynn, and Kellisha all stood with their arms crossed smugly, smiling. And that, of course, was when the rest of the volleyball team came into the locker room.

For several moments, there was silence as the other girls looked at me, shocked. As Rhiannon and her friends hesitated. As I willed myself to cease existing.

Then the locker room was filled with the giggles of the girls.

I grabbed my jeans up off the floor and fled. The girls of the volleyball team, not willing to pass up a chance to smack an orb in range, spanked me in passing. Once in the hallway, when I was sure I was pursued by no more than echoing giggles, I struggled into my jeans and scurried home.

Once home, I locked myself in the bathroom and turned the shower on hot. Naked and alone, I took stock of my butt in the mirror. It was still reddened and splotched with bruises. I ran my fingers over them lightly and hissed and the residual pain.

You might say I was taught a humiliating lesson. You might say I ought to straighten out. You might say getting spanked in the girls' locker room would be an event I wouldn't want to soon repeat.

But that all depends on your point of view.


End file.
